Twintelle's Tale
by Durriken
Summary: From the silver screen to the boxing ring, this is her journey.


A/N: I'm sure as more of the ARMS story comes out most of these 'origin' stories, including this one, will be rendered bunk… but screw it! Twintelle is life!

Chapter 1: Twintelle's Tale

* * *

That voice… soft as silk, lighter than a feather….

She remembered that voice all too well, and the words were coming back to her.

" _Mon amour… you will go on to do great things, so have no fear. Stand tall, stay strong… and remember… you can do anything. You_ are _a star_."

Those words echoed throughout her subconscious, replaying over and over again like a cracked record, until her eyes fluttered open and she sat up, chest heaving.

Waking up sweaty was never a thing Twintelle liked to do—she abhorred it actually—but she was too preoccupied with her latest dream to dwell on how her nightie clung to her like a second skin. What would happen this time…? It seemed every time she dreamt of her mother, no matter the capacity, like clockwork, a major shift rocked her world. The last time, a little more than a year ago, she woke to find herself wearing this strange black mask that seemed utterly defiant to leave her face, and with it came the surprising ability to control her hair like an extra set of arms.

Apparently, this odd phenomenon was sweeping the world, so much so that it gained its own silly little sport, aptly named the ARMS Grand Prix.

That didn't matter to Twintelle, who initially thought that her acting career was ruined by this strange occurrence, but it didn't take her long to add in some action films to her repertoire, many of which were major hits at the box office. Critics lauded the fighting scenes and the choreography, and the world went absolutely crazy when Twintelle's agent revealed she did all of her own stunts.

" _Twintelle is the most versatile star in the business right now,"_ she remembered him saying ecstatically, " _she can act, she can sing, we learned real quick that she can box with the best of them—she's not letting this change to her life slow her down at all, she's using it to her advantage! There's no stopping the Twintelle train!_ "

She sighed, flomping back down on her bed. "The Twintelle Train, eh?"

Her room was vast, filled with the luxuries that her talent had earned her throughout life, including a lengthy table that housed a generous collection of perfumes. That was one of her main loves, buying and sniffing perfumes. The cornucopia of scents always set her mind, got her in the mood to take on the day.

"And speaking of starting the day… _excusez-moi_ , really? This early?"

She spoke to her hair, which would seem odd by itself if not for the fact that both her length pigtails were currently lifting fifty-pound dumbbells.

"Honestly, can I not even shower first, _obtenir frais_?" she questioned with some annoyance, but her hair continued the set.

While fitness was something she always made time for, as her body was heavily considered a temple worthy of worship according to a majority of her fans, Twintelle didn't fancy the slight level of cognizance her hair seemed to gain since that mask appeared. Sure, it made daily tasks easy and fun, but sometimes, like now, her pigtails liked to go overboard….

As if she weren't sweaty enough, she could feel the strain her hair was going through; it caused her heartbeat to climb and her breaths to come out in heated pants. She would never _not_ find that odd, how she felt the effects of working out through her hair, but she wasn't going to complain either because she also received the benefits.

"Fine," she relented, bringing her knees up and wrapping her real arms around them, "but this is the last set, _d'accord_?"

Her hair gave an energetic bounce.

"Alright then, _allons-y._ Un… deux… trois…."

Moments later, Twintelle was stepping out of the shower, towel around her figure and her sopping wet hair piled into a ridiculously high pile. Even though her body was sore from a workout that she hadn't taken part of, the wash had done her good and she stared at her reflection in the mirror after wiping the mist away.

Her hair vibrated somewhat.

"Your guess is as good as mine, _cheveux magiques_ " she sighed despondently, hearing the question without it being verbally asked.

That was another thing: so far as she could tell, besides being the only one afflicted with the ARMS epidemic and still retaining her arms, her hair could talk. In her mind. Where only she could hear. Smartly, she told no one about that little side effect and could only assume it was due to her ARMS being her hair, which was connected to her head. And that made her wonder if others afflicted, if their arms talked to them…?

Almost as if reading her mind, which it could, her hair vibrated in a ticklish fashion.

"No one else so far, hm? So I continue to be unique." She smirked, whipping her towel off to wrap it around her hair in a playful jostle. "And how do I know I haven't simply gone _insane_ over the past few months? You _are_ attached to my head after all, you could be controlling my every move!"

Stifled by the towel, her hair gave a lackluster twitch and she giggled.

"True enough, I suppose. I never was one to be controlled… although taking a sign when I see it…."

She was leaning toward the mirror now, hands on either side of the sink. Her eyes were resplendent, and her shoulders firm. The hourglass shape of her figure, the delectable shade of her skin, the way her smile caused passerby to double-take, an attitude that was both firm and decisive yet tender and caring….

Many of those traits were the reasons behind her immense popularity, why her films were considered box office hits before they even came out, why entire city's turned up at her autograph signings. She had a built-in platform, she had the talent and determination….

"So… why not?" she wondered softly at first, clenching the sink, and now her heart was beginning to beat very fast. "Why couldn't I master this as well?"

By 'this' she meant, of course, the ARMS Grand Prix.

Silly though it was, and utterly barbaric, it was something that had been on her mind ever since waking up to find her hair in the midst of making her breakfast. To participate in any ARMS sanctioned bout, one had to naturally have a pair of ARMS, and while hers may not have been literally that, her hair would surely qualify, right? Right. So why not give it a try? Why not venture into new territory and take her chances?

She was smirking now as the thoughts in her head began to swirl towards a conclusion that would no doubt flip the movie industry on its head if she decided to do this. Currently, she was set to appear in at least four films over the span of the next couple of years, one horror, two action, and a spy flick.

All of that would have to be cancelled if she wanted to take on the ARMS circuit. The training, the promotions, the matches and showdowns… Her mind was racing, she could see it… she could see herself standing at the final leg, fighting Max Brass, holding the ARMS championship belt over her head, the roar of the crowd….

 _You can do anything… You_ are _a star_ ….

That clenched it.

Hearing those words again, all worry and doubt was expunged from her mind and she whirled around with flair, hands on her hips with a defiant snort.

"Then, it's settled!" she declared as though there were an audience before her. "I, the silver screen queen, Twintelle, am throwing my hand – er… hair! – into the ring!"

This was it, it had to be, what her mother was alluding to in that dream, how she could be whatever she wanted, that she was a star.

A few seconds passed with her just standing there, poised and still dripping from the shower, when her hair suddenly trembled. Whenever her hair moved on its own, it gave off emotions that translated itself into expressions in Twintelle's mind, hence 'talking' to her, and right now, she was getting vibes of embarrassment.

" _Moi_? Embarrassed? Why should I be?"

Another shiver followed the first and it was then that Twintelle felt a chill slide between her legs.

"Ah… I see." She facepalmed herself with a sigh. "Yes, I suppose standing naked and speaking like I just overcame a dragon is a tad bit – yes, I understand, right…."

If she could have melted in the floor, she would have, right then and there, but she couldn't so she snatched her towel of her sentient locks and hastily covered herself again.

"Ahem… now! As I was saying, I… oh forget it, _le moment est parti…_ "

It didn't help her bruised pride when her hair began vibrating, essentially laughing at her.

"Oh, _tais-toi_ ," she snapped, unable to keep from smiling a little.

No amount of embarrassment could keep away the butterflies in her stomach. She was about to launch herself down an entirely new direction in life, one that she had no idea what the outcome would be. She had _some_ experience using her hair as an ARMS weapon thanks to a few action films, but enough to take on a league filled with professionals? Could she rise to be a top contender? Was this even a feat worth attempting, or was she just chasing delusions brought on by her dream around a sensitive subject?

"Hm…?"

The way her hair started to shake… it was almost inspiring, like it were trying to encourage her; she felt it's confidence, that invigoration.

"You're right," she agreed aloud, a fire blazing behind her cerulean pupils. "You are _absolutely_ right. Why not? Why not _moi_? I can see it, the ARMS League… that's the next leg of my journey. I'll do it, _because I can do anything_."

And she would have felt empowered in the moment were her hair not trembling with silent laughter.

"Yeah, yeah — arms, legs, I get it, hahaha…."

* * *

(rough) Translations:

Excusez-moi: excuse me

Obtenir frais: get fresh

D'accord: Okay

Allons-y: Let's go

Cheveux magiques: magic hair

Le moment est parti: The moment is gone….

Tais-toi: Shut up.


End file.
